


The King is Dead (Long Live the King)

by TheDarkRat



Series: DarkRat's Plot Bunny Basket [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Dark Harry Potter, Dying Is Not Good For Your Mental Health, M/M, Neither is Having a Horcrux Stuck to Your Own Soul, Powerful Harry Potter, Self-Indulgent, Smart Harry Potter, The Black Library, Time Travel, Unfinished, Unhinged Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkRat/pseuds/TheDarkRat
Summary: He died. Then he came back. Well. Not all of him.How do you tell your best friends that you miss a murderer’s soul? Your murderer. ‘Cause he had indeed died. Just because he got back up didn’t make Voldemort any less Harry’s murderer. How can you explain that you miss something you didn’t know you had?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: DarkRat's Plot Bunny Basket [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500458
Comments: 24
Kudos: 236





	The King is Dead (Long Live the King)

He died. Then he came back. Well. Not all of him. 

After the battle. After the funerals. After he finally had the time to just sit in the quiet of Grimmauld Place he realized the truth. 

He was missing a very large chunk of himself. Oh, not his magic, that was overfull and he dripped with power. Not his emotions, he felt those keenly enough - grief and rage and sadness. No. The pain was soul deep. Because of course, it was. 

Harry had held that soul-piece almost all of his life. How could his own soul not have grown around and in and through it? And now, with its absence, Harry felt bereft. Something...someone was missing. 

He couldn’t explain it to anyone. How do you tell your best friends that you miss a murderer’s soul? Your murderer. ‘Cause he had indeed died. Just because he got back up didn’t make Voldemort any less Harry’s murderer. How can you explain that you miss something you didn’t know you had?

\------

  
  


Andromeda kept Teddy close. Harry was not a good influence. Hero, he might be, but he was not a stable individual. Never had been. Harry had never felt more sympathy towards Sirius. Worthless godfathers, the pair of them. One in prison, the other soul-sick and lost. 

Ron and Hermione healed together. The trauma of war gluing them together more solidly than actual compatibility. They knew each other’s scars and nightmares. It was a comfort in a way, to not have to explain the reasons or hows. 

Luna travelled to find her creatures. Neville dug in and started to rebuild and grow. Ginny took to the skies. 

Harry...watched. 

\------

Harry went to Gringotts. Paid his reparations, it truly didn’t make a sizable difference. But he cleared out the Potter and Black vaults - part of the agreement - Harry was not welcome back into the bank. Though he did secure and fill a vault for Teddy and Andromeda. They would not want for anything, it was the least he could do. 

Several bottomless trunks were procured, filled, and neatly labeled. Harry had the time. He sorted trinkets, broke curses, renewed charms, read ancient tomes and diaries. He was astounded by all the lost knowledge, rituals and holy days, gods and patrons, everyday charms and large magical workings. Once upon a time, it’d be something Hermione would salivate over. But now, with their first child on the way, and her career in the ministry on the rise, she didn’t have the time to have more than the occasional tea with Harry. 

He and Ron drifted. Ron had taken the Ministry’s offer of a fastrack for D.A. members and became an Auror. He was good at it, liked the stability of procedure and ability to call on backup. Something none of the adventures they’d had as kids had. 

Ginny had already given up Harry as a lost romantic cause long before the end of the war. Maybe she knew even before that. After all, she too had once carried a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul. 

Years past. Harry drifted. 

\-------

Harry was 30 years old when he found it. A proposed ritual in a dusty grimoire. One that had been noted to never attempt as no one had enough magical energy to power it. Well. No one except Harry. 

The Hallows had returned to him that first night after his resurrection. He hadn’t said anything. It wasn’t worth the notoriety. With the Elder Wand, his own seemingly endless magical core, and the ritual, Harry could fix himself. 

He would be able to send his body and anything on it back through time. Oh, Harry knew that horrible things happened to wixen who meddled with time. But. Horrible things had happened regardless. Why couldn’t he undo horrible things? 

Preparation was easy. He charmed his mokeskin pouch to be bottomless and weightless. Then emptied Grimmauld. He’d need the resources when he returned, he had a Dark Lord, a soulmate, to fix. 

\------

The ritual was surprisingly simple, for all it needed what amounted to be phenomenal cosmic power. And when he ended up ass over tit in an itty bitty living space, he knew that he’d succeeded. 

The smallest bedroom in No. 4 Privet Drive was a sorry sight. Except it wasn’t. Harry had arrived exactly when he meant to. The day Dobby came to see him. It was perfect. 

His younger self no longer existed. He, as he was, 31, powerful and unfettered, had taken the place. He giggled quietly to himself as he felt the Horcrux reattach to his hollowed-out soul. It felt so good to feel whole again. Then glamoured and transfigured himself to look like his former scrawny, 11-almost-12-year-old self. 

\----

Dobby showed up, right on time. And after a repeat of who and what Dobby was, it was easy to get the little elf onside. 

“Dobby,” Harry spoke quietly and slowly. “I have an idea. One that will ensure that I won’t go back to Hogwarts and be in danger.” 

“Yes Harry Potter Sir! Yous cannot go back. Danger!” 

“I know Dobby. Last year was dangerous. This year might be more so.” Harry agreed. “Can you get for me a dead pig, a crow wing, and an emerald?” 

“Whys?” Dobby cocked his head to the side. 

“With these items, we can make a magic item that will keep me safe.” 

The little elf brightened and vigorously nodded his head. “Right aways Great Harry Potter Sir!” 

It was after midnight when Dobby returned with all the required items. Harry arranged them on the bed. 

“Alright, Dobby. Thank you for your help. You’ve helped me a lot.” He put his hand on the slim shoulder of the elf in front of him. “But, for me to be completely safe. You can’t know the secret. You might be ordered to reveal it. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” The elf answered sadly, ears drooping, “Dobby understands.” 

“Obliviate.” Harry was faster than the elf’s response. He erased all knowledge of Harry Potter except what was considered common knowledge from the elf’s mind. In another life, Dobby had given his life for Harry’s. In this life, he’d sacrifice memories. Harry thought it was a decent trade. He sent the elf away before the side-effect confusion cleared. 

“Now then. On to the first step in Project Fix Tom Riddle. Harry Potter has to die.” Harry smirked to himself. Using the Elder Wand, he cut his palm and dripped his blood on the dead pig, then transfigured it into an exact replica of his tiny self. The crow’s wing became wild, untamed Potter hair. The emeralds spun into clones of Lily’s legacy. 

Once the initial transformation was complete, he adjusted it. This Harry hadn’t been locked into the bedroom with half a dozen locks and a cat flap. However, that is what he wanted to happen. So he made the golem look starved, broke a few ribs and an arm, gave it lash marks. It was a little more than what actually happened, but, in his plans, it was perfect. It would be 100% human to every spell and even a muggle autopsy, the blood ensuring it would be his double in every way. 

Hedwig hooted softly. Harry looked up and was mesmerized by the sight of his beautifully alive, faithful owl. 

“Oh, girl…” he said as he unlocked her cage and pet her. “I need to disguise you. I can’t leave you here. But you’re so beautiful, you’ll always turn heads.” She churred as his compliments were her due. 

He sent a wordless, permanent color charm. Hedwig became a pitch-black owl with white spots. The inverse of her former coloration. 

“There we go, girl. We might need to reconsider a new name? How about Athena? She’s a goddess you know.” The owl gave a little bark and started to groom his hair. Harry smiled. That was easy. 

For the next part of his plan, he carefully drew on the Cloak hallow. He no longer needed to don the cloak-like clothing, only needed a thought to be undetectable. He crept to his Aunt and Uncle’s bedroom. 

A careful Imperio and memory implant, he gave them the idea to ignore the golem on the bed, to install all those locks and catflap, to put bars on the window. They remembered Harry ruining the meal with the Masons, they remembered his punishment. It would hold up under even Snape’s legilimens. 

Reversing his prior glamor and self-transfiguration, Harry stretched his limbs. He’d camp out in the guest bedroom to monitor the situation. All he had to do now was wait for the Weasleys to attempt a rescue. After all, Little Harry wasn’t returning any letters. 

\------- 

And it happened exactly as he’d expected. He heard the Ford Anglia outside and with silent apparition watched from the shadowy corner of Little Harry’s bedroom. 

“Harry!” Ron whisper-yelled through the open window. “Mate!” 

“Fred,” this was George, “he doesn’t look good.” 

“Harry?” Ron called again, this time knocking on the window. 

“Shh, Ron, We can’t wake up the muggles.” 

“But, he’s not waking up.” 

“Hang on, Ron.” George turned to Fred, “Fred…We need Dad. Something’s seriously wrong.” 

Harry watched through the window as the twins shared a look before Fred nodded. 

“Ron,” this was Fred, “we know you’re worried about Harry. We’re going to go back home and get Dad. Then we’re gonna come back. Okay?” 

“Yeah…” Ron looked lost and small. He knew something was wrong but was too young to understand. The twins weren’t much older, but they did have better instincts. 

Harry saw the blue car disappear into the clouds. He smiled and then erased any magical signature that might have accumulated since he’d been squatting in the spare room. Then he left the house. 

He perched up on top of the neighbor’s roof to watch. He knew that this was going to be a good Pensive memory. His last act was to rip the wards down.

“Athena why don’t you go out hunting. And then meet me in London tomorrow night?” His owl chirped and flew off into the night. 

\-------

Dawn arrived with several cracks of apparition. Harry, cloaked and perched in shadow above, watched avidly. 

Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley, and Mad-Eye Moody had shown up, seemingly ready to duel. When no enemies were found, and no Dark Mark was seen, the group moved forward. 

Harry could see, even from his vantage point, the sneer on Snape’s face. There was some casting along the old borders of the ward. Testing it. Harry watched Dumbledore’s face as it fell. Moody and McGonagall were the ones to open the door. 

The fireworks were about to begin. Harry cackled to himself. Oh, wouldn’t his personal Dark Lord like to see this! 

He watched the outside of the house, wishing to hear the actual discovery, but he couldn’t risk it. Harry settled in. He didn’t need to wait long. He heard the roar of Snape in fury. Equally, McGonagall was yelling now too. 

Arthur stumbled out of the house and was quietly sick in the bushes outside the house. He was the one who sent out a Patronus, calling the DMLE. It didn’t take long for several Aurors and Amelia Bones to arrive. 

By now, Harry could hear Vernon bellowing about freaks and brats and ungrateful whelps. Petunia seemed to be screeching at Snape. Oh yes, they knew each other, didn’t they. Harry grinned widely as he apparated away. 

The king is dead. Long live the king. 

\-------

Harry knew this was the best time to return to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was distracted and Snape and McGonagall were with him. So he appeared inside the Shrieking Shack. Quickly made his way through the tunnel and scooted out by the Whomping Willow. 

It was not hard at all to avoid Filch to get to the 7th floor and the Room of Requirement. Three paces back and forth and the Room of Lost Things appeared. 

First order was the Diadem. With the Horcrux in his own body again, Harry was able to easily locate the tiara easily. He wrapped in conjured silk and gently put it in his duster jacket pocket. Then, with all the might of the Elder Wand, with levitation, shrinking, and weightless charms, Harry directed the entire contents of the room into his mokeskin. 

He was quite the magpie now. After going through two ancient family vaults, Harry loved to play with magical trinkets. And the world’s largest magical lost and found ticked all of his buttons. 

It had taken a while for the room to empty. After the last item, a skinny coat-rack entered the pouch, Harry checked the Map. 

“Hmm. Dumbledore’s still not back. Lovely. Maybe a trip to the Headmaster’s office…” 

Harry slunk through the empty halls. At the Gargoyle, he checked the map again, “Ice Mice.” The gargoyle jumped aside. “Thanks.” 

Still invisible, Harry watched the portraits start murmuring. He smiled. They’d tell the Headmaster, another terrible thing in the course of a terrible day. 

Upon spying the Hat, Harry cast with the Elder Wand. “Imperio.” 

Harry commanded the hat to spit out anything it was hiding. More than just the sword appeared. The Philosopher's Stone tumbled out. Several rolls of canvas, books, parchment scrolls, a tall glaive, a round wooden shield, a bow and quiver fell out to join Gryffindor’s sword. 

“That utter bastard,” Harry muttered to himself. He paid no mind to the portraits who were now yelling and running from frames to alert someone about the thief. The haul of treasures went into the mokeskin. 

Then he jumped out the window. Just as the door opened to reveal Professor Flitwick. Harry turned into his animagus form and flew away. His black plumage invisible, as he still hadn’t released the cloak’s power. 

Two Horcruxes, four to go. 

\------

Harry stood at the hidden back door of Grimmauld Place. The door would only show itself Black Blood or the holder of the wards. Harry was both. With a smear of blood on the knob, Harry entered. The wards snapped back to full strength and life with an audible twang. 

“I, Hades Ignotus Peverell, claim these wards by blood and by magic.” There was a flash of light and Harry smirked. He had needed a new name for this new life. And wasn’t it just a poke in the old goat’s eye to use the Peverell name. “Kreacher!” 

“Whos this? Filthy thief of wards, Kreacher wonders.” The old elf peered at Harry through the gloom of the back hallway. 

“I am your new Master. I feel the magic of the bond. Do you?” 

“Yes….You are...Very powerful wizard.” Kreacher said slowly as he felt at the magical bond. “Death’s magic!” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Harry gave a crooked grin. “Now. I want you to use the Black funds at Gringotts and fix up and clean this house. I want it looking new. Proper grandeur, for the House of Black and Peverell.” 

“Kreacher can do this.” And the elf popped away. 

\------

The locket was exactly where he remembered. Harry put the locket around his neck and reveled in the feel of the soul. It was dark and rich. And his own soul felt filled with warmth and joy. How he missed this when it was gone. Harry hadn’t appreciated the feeling of wholeness before. He shivered. 

Grimmauld would be his base. It had everything he needed. A ritual room, a potion’s lab, deadly, impenetrable wards, and it was close to Muggle London should he need an escape. He began his preparations. 

\------

A quick trip to Little Hangleton netted him Bones of the Father and the Ring. The stone, merely a stone as Harry already Mastered the original. Just like the cloak and the wand - they would be powerful objects, but not the ones of legend. Just the thing to prove Little Harry’s identity. After all, an orphan child would hardly give up the one object they had from their parents. It was locked in the trunk in the cupboard. Along with all the rest of Little Harry’s school things. 

The Prophet had a field day. The typeface, large and bold, announced  **“Boy Who Lived Starved To Death By Muggles! Dumbledore to Face Inquiry!”** Harry had bought several of that edition. And then proceeded to anonymously owl a certain beetle animagus directions to Godric’s Hollow and the previously forgotten great-aunt of Gellert Grindelwald. Albus’s empire, built on the backs of the martyred Potter parents and the mysterious Boy-Who-Lived, was going to fall like a house of cards. 

\------

Harry only had two more Horcruxes to find. The diary was easy. Black blood had been added to the wards when Narcissa had married into the Malfoy family. The same Black blood that allowed Harry to control the wards of Grimmauld. 

Once again, using the power of the cloak, Harry snuck into Malfoy Manor. The wards allowed him access and the traps surrounding the secret room in the library were laughably easy to someone as well-read as Harry. The Black library was worth twice its weight in gold. 

Harry walked out of the manor with one black diary, several copies of Malfoy family grimoires, and because he could, one albino peacock. He whistled as he apparated off the grounds. 

\------

Getting the cup would be the hardest, Harry decided. He didn’t want to upset the bank again. His last life had told him just how much of a pain that would be. 

However, now he had a new identity. Claimed by blood and magic. 

“Greetings Teller Irontooth. May your enemies shudder at your name.” Harry gave the formal bow of one warrior to another. 

“And you wizard, may your fortunes swell and your foes bleed.” Irontooth was skeptical at this strange wix. Most English wixen eschewed Goblin culture. “How can Gringotts assist you today?” 

“I need to attend some legal family matters. Preferably done in privacy.” Harry flashed the lordship rings on his hand. 

“Of course.” Irontooh raised an eyebrow. There hadn’t been a Black Lord since Orion died some years back. It was common knowledge that the line of Black was spent in the male line. 

Irontooth brought Harry to a private office and went to fetch the Black account manager. Slipjaw was a formidable and ruthless goblin. He had served the Black family for several decades. 

“Wizard. This is Slipjaw. The Black Family accounts manager.” 

“Greetings Slipjaw. May your enemies flee before your feet.” Harry bowed again. 

“I see what you mean, Irontooth.” Slipjaw muttered before turning to face Harry, “And may your wealth increase with every enemy defeated.” 

“Now then,” Harry started. “To business.” 

“Have a seat Wizard.” Slipjaw put the accounts book on the desk and sat behind it. “First, I must see the validity of your claim to the House of Black.” 

“I, Hades Ignotus Peverell, claim by blood and magic, all honors, titles, and credits due to me by conquest, by bloodline, by magic.” Harry sliced his palm as he finished his vow. Magic pulsed and then there was a flash. Next to the Black accounts book were now several other family accounts books and two ring boxes. 

“It would seem that Magic accepts your claim and grants you further claims,” Slipjaw stated dryly. “Black, Peverell, Slytherin, and Evanshade. Interesting mix, you have Lord Black.” 

“Hades, please, Manager Slipjaw.” 

“As you say.” The goblin nodded. “It would seem that the Evanshade family had previously died out in the magical line. There was a squib,” Slipjaw was following a family tree inside one of the portfolios, “a son. Looks like he shorted his surname to Evans after he was sent to the muggle world. He had two sons, one of which is your maternal grandfather, by way of a Lily Evans.” At that, Slipjaw looked up with a curious expression. “You’re looking very good for a dead 12-year-old, Harry Potter.” 

“I am that person no longer.” His words were a little harsher than he anticipated. “I trust this is in the strictest of confidences?” 

“Of course.” 

“I’m here, from the future, to revitalize the Dark Lord and strengthen the wixen and magical world.” 

Slipjaw gaped at him. Harry really couldn’t blame him, really. After all, the goblin was right, he  _ did _ look good for a dead pre-teen. 

“Don’t worry, Slipjaw. I will respect the Goblin nature’s neutrality in wixen affairs. In addition to establishing and furthering creature rights.” The goblin seemed stuck in the same dumbfounded expression. “Now, if it’s not too much trouble, can we continue?” 

“Right. Of course.” 

In the end, Harry started the process of Gringotts looking into the imprisoned Black heir, reinstated Andromeda and her family back into the family, struck Bellatrix from the tree, and reclaimed the LeStrange vaults as repayment of her dowry. He also made sure that Tom Marvolo Riddle was instated as Lord of Slytherin, while Harry downgraded himself to regent and heir. Things were going swimmingly. 

\-------

The cup, at last, joined the pile of Horcruxes in the ritual room. Only one thing remained. The Dark Lord’s wandering spirit. 

Harry meditated surrounded by the Horcruxes. He reached out through his own to the connection to Tom. 

~Voldemort.~ Harry called. ~Lord Slytherin.~ 

~Who dare calls?~ The Dark Lord hissed back. 

~I am Regent to the House of Slytherin. I wish to restore you to your former glory and ensure you your birthright.~ Harry explained. 

~How can you be Regent? I sired no bastards. And I killed all my family.~ 

~The claim came to me by conquest.~ Harry knew this was the make or break line. This would either tip Voldemort into further curiosity or further madness. 

~How...Potter? You’re not a child!~ 

~I will explain everything. Once we restore you to a body. I have everything needed and ready. ~

**Author's Note:**

> At present, this is all I've got. I couldn't get the Muse to give me an accurate Voldemort/Riddle mindset. 
> 
> That could change. I'm not listing this as abandoned.


End file.
